


icebreaker

by hakyeonni



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skating, Enemies to Lovers, Ice Skating, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rival Relationship, oh yes it's a figure skating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakyeonni/pseuds/hakyeonni
Summary: the line between envy and passion runs thin: a lesson sanghyuk learns the hard way.(or a study of how not to fall in love with your rival)





	icebreaker

**Author's Note:**

> okay I am not an expert at figure skating, not even close, so pls dont come for me if I got some things wrong sksjklf I am trying My Best
> 
> that being said, huge props to tiana who was the Official Hakyeonni Figure Skating Correspondent for this fic, she put up with all my ridiculous questions and helped me with plot so much!! we love a legend!!

There’s applause, but Sanghyuk can’t hear it.

His eyes are squeezed shut, his fists clenched into balls, and he’s bouncing on his skates, back and forth, back and forth, feeling the springy surface underneath him give way each time. Taekwoon’s talking to him, but Sanghyuk’s not listening. It’s the same things he always says before a competition, useless banalities that mean nothing. Not when he’s keyed up. Not when the adrenaline is running through his body. Not when he’s running through his routine over and over again in his head, nervousness turning his stomach inside out.

The applause stops. The sound of skates on the ice. Sanghyuk opens his eyes.

Hakyeon’s skating towards them, waving at the crowd with a smile on his face, his hair falling in his eyes. Of course he’d be smiling. He probably skated a perfect routine—when does he ever not? Their eyes meet as he steps off the ice, taking his blade guards from his coach, who’s come rushing over to him with a water bottle.

Sanghyuk glowers. Hakyeon shines.

“Good luck,” he says, and the worst part is that he probably means it sincerely.

A moment passes. Sanghyuk nearly doesn’t reply, but when Taekwoon elbows him in the stomach he opens his mouth and squeaks out a quiet, “Thanks.”

Not that it matters. Hakyeon’s already gone, traipsing away, buried deep in conversation with his coach and not even looking Sanghyuk’s way. Completely typical.

Sanghyuk claps Taekwoon on the shoulder, gives him a squeeze—reassuring the reassurer—and steps out onto the ice, gliding forward and deliberately quieting his mind. He can’t see the ice, or the crowd, or the judges as he takes his place in front of them. All he can see is the steps of his routine, over and over again, on repeat.

The music starts, and Sanghyuk holds his breath.

//

“Don’t,” he snarls, snatching the blade guards from Taekwoon’s hand and shoving them on his skates with shaking hands, stepping off the ice and feeling a weight slide off his shoulders as he does. “Don’t start.”

But Taekwoon starts, because what kind of coach would he be if he didn’t? “Sanghyuk—” But Sanghyuk’s charging away with all the pace, and grace, of a freight train, regardless of the fact he’s on skates. “Sanghyuk, what the hell happened?”

He’s aware he’s being juvenile. He’s aware that he should wait for his score, but he doesn’t even want to hear it. It’ll be abysmal, but what did he expect? This routine was probably too much for him, as much as he hates to admit it to himself. “I fucked up,” he spits over his shoulder, because it’s a simple explanation for a string of mistakes.

“It’s not that bad.” Taekwoon catches him by the bicep, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes are dark and deadly serious, but Sanghyuk’s not looking at him. He’s staring at Hakyeon, over Taekwoon’s right shoulder, watching this altercation with an amused expression. “Seriously, Sanghyuk. I know you get emotional, but—”

“Don’t,” he says again, his eyes snapping back to Taekwoon’s face.

“ _You_ don’t.” Taekwoon gives him a little shake. “You’re a good skater, but you get into your own head too much. That’s what’s stopping you from placing. Not your technical faults.”

Of which there are numerous. His routine had been riding on landing his quad lutz, his first jump, but he’d wobbled on the landing and gone down, legs akimbo like a newborn calf. He’d gotten up with a smile, as taught, but the damage was done. The image of his routine evaporated in front of his eyes. He skated on instinct, robotically, going through the movements with the bare minimum effort. He’d nearly fallen in his second combination, off the back of his triple toe. He hadn’t quite gotten the extension right in his sit spin, and it had been too slow.

Sometimes he feels like a buffalo on the ice, all raw strength and power utterly lacking in finesse, not knowing what to do with his limbs. It had been particularly bad this time. If he’d just landed the lutz—

“Han Sanghyuk,” the announcer calls over the loudspeaker. “With a score of 175.”

He meets Taekwoon’s eyes, sees the disappointment there. “Still think it’s not that bad?”

Taekwoon doesn’t reply, just lets Sanghyuk go as he shoves past. Hakyeon’s still staring at him as he goes, but he doesn’t even acknowledge him, not even when he reaches out as if to say something. Sanghyuk couldn’t care less; his emotions are running so high he feels like he can barely breathe, can barely see, and just needs to get out of here.

//

Hakyeon places first with a new season’s best, and Sanghyuk stands on the sidelines clapping for him, watching him smile genially at the crowd with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Even Taekwoon’s clapping in begrudging admiration, deep in conversation with Hakyeon’s coach, Hongbin someone-or-rather. The rest of the skaters are all chatting, but Sanghyuk stands alone, not talking to anyone, not moving.

Sanghyuk seethes. Hakyeon gleams.

There’s always next time.

//

Cha Hakyeon, twenty-five years old, last year’s national champion, and at the rate he’s going, this year’s too. He’s known for his grace and flexibility, for gliding across the ice so smoothly he looks like he’s flying, for dancing like water to whatever music he chooses. He’s slender and balletic, a smile never far from his face, always genial, always nice to the other skaters.

In comparison, Sanghyuk feels huge and ungainly. His body filled out in ways he didn’t want it to, and now he’s all muscle—muscle he doesn’t really know what to do with. He’s nineteen, one of the younger skaters in the division, and the others never fail to remind him of it. His specialty is jumps. Or it’s meant to be. The failed quad lutz is still taunting him, even though it’s been days; he falls asleep to the feeling of the ice biting into his palms, wakes up to images of Hakyeon, smiling at him as he came off the rink.

The funny thing is is that the skating world in this country is pretty small; everyone knows each other, and everyone talks. Sanghyuk’s been skating with Hakyeon for years, but they’ve never really had a conversation beyond a few words here and there. It’s for this reason that Sanghyuk’s not surprised to see Hakyeon on the ice at their local rink one morning when he arrives to train, although a small flame of jealousy ignites in him even at this—it’s seven am. Why must Hakyeon not only be the best, but also the one who works hardest, the one who does the most? It’s irritating to no end.

“Your lutz was under rotated,” Taekwoon’s saying as they lace up their skates together on the side of the rink. Sanghyuk only feels alive thanks to the coffee currently buzzing through his system, care of Taekwoon, and takes another gulp from the thermos. “So I want to work on that today.”

Sanghyuk sighs and puts the thermos down. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” he mutters, standing up and stomping over to the ice.

If he’s petulant, he blames it on the sleep still clinging to his system, although that soon evaporates as they skate around in sync, not saying a word but just enjoying the feel of the ice beneath their skates. “We should do pairs,” Sanghyuk murmurs, grinning when Taekwoon turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Please. You’d be a disaster.” He shoots a glance sideways at Sanghyuk, but even he’s smiling now. “I’d love to see you try and throw me.”

“Is that a challenge?” Sanghyuk speeds up and slides an arm around Taekwoon’s waist, bumping their hips together. “I could throw you into next week—”

At this Taekwoon just laughs and folds in half, escaping Sanghyuk’s arm and waving him on. “Get your quad lutz down, and then we can talk.”

He doesn’t even bristle at the command; his mood has been lifted just by the sheer fact of being in the cold, of the slide of the ice beneath his skates, of the pleasant quiet hissing noise. He hates competing, but he _loves_ this; it’s what he lives for. He’s not paying attention to anything as he circles around Taekwoon, and hence he misses Hakyeon watching their exchange with interest.

Taekwoon is, in Sanghyuk’s opinion, the best coach in the country—no, the best coach in the whole world. He’s a previous Olympic gold medallist, and although a knee injury had brought his career to a screeching halt right at its peak—he doesn’t like to talk about it, Sanghyuk’s asked—he’s found a new career in coaching, and Sanghyuk even thinks he enjoys it. He has a handful of other skaters he coaches, but he spends most of his time with Sanghyuk. Privately, they both know, although they haven’t said it, that they’re hoping Sanghyuk will be heading to the next Olympics in two years time. Every time Sanghyuk thinks about that he has a panic attack, so he just pretends it isn’t happening. It’s easier that way.

All of this means, of course, that Taekwoon works him hard. He has Sanghyuk starting easy, with doubles, and although he wobbles on the landings of the first few he soon finds his rhythm and settles in easily. He doesn’t even flinch when Taekwoon starts directing him to do triples. This is what he was _born_ to do. This is what he was _made_ to do. He is speed and power and—

“Quad lutz,” Taekwoon calls, and folds his arms over his chest.

A shiver runs through him, but he speeds up for the jump anyway, picturing it in his head: outside-edge takeoff, four rotations, land on the opposite outside edge. Easy. He’s done it before, in practice, and if he did it once he can do it again.

He stabs his toe into the ice and takes off, but it’s wrong; a minute misapplication of muscles in his thighs, and he’s under-rotating, and he’s falling, and then he’s splayed out on the ice at Taekwoon’s feet, looking up at him and fighting back tears.

“It’s okay.” Taekwoon’s voice is gentle, and he helps Sanghyuk up. “We’ll go again until you get it. I know you can.”

Sanghyuk’s about to reply when Hakyeon glides past, and his mood turns from one of hope to one of shame. “Yeah,” he mutters, and skates away. “Sure.”

Hours pass. Sanghyuk doesn’t know how many times he attempts that stupid quad lutz, but it’s like he’s just lost the ability to do it entirely. Time after time he falls, and time after time he gets back up and tries, again and again until his whole body is aching. Taekwoon’s frustration is growing, visibly at this point, and at one point when Sanghyuk wobbles, nearly rights himself, and then falls, he actually swears and skates away.

“It’s frustrating,” he says, grabbing Sanghyuk by both shoulders, “because I know you can do it. You’ve just got in your head about it.”

Sanghyuk sniffs. “Doesn’t help that he’s here,” he mumbles, nodding at Hakyeon. “He’s just—”

He’d meant to say _just so annoying_ , but then Hakyeon, even though jumps are not his specialty, even though he hasn’t really been practicing jumps this whole time, launches into a picture-perfect quad lutz and lands it flawlessly, beaming from ear to ear.

Sanghyuk’s left standing there with his mouth wide open, aware it’s unattractive and unable to care beyond the rage and jealousy filling his veins, ripping him open. “He’s just fucking showing off like the asshole he is—”

“Enough,” Taekwoon barks, and pushes Sanghyuk. He goes wheeling backwards across the ice, but it’s too late, the damage is done. Taekwoon’s eyes are hard. “I won’t tolerate unsportsmanlike behaviour. Do it again.”

“Do what?”

“The quad,” Taekwoon says, and skates away.

And so they continue. Sanghyuk falls, time after time. Triple lutz? No problem. Triple axel? Easy. Quad flip? Piece of cake. But a quad lutz? He can’t stop falling, and he can’t stop looking at Hakyeon, spinning around on the ice without a care in the world, looking prettier than he should. Sanghyuk’s sure he looks like shit—he’s sweaty and crusted with ice from all his falls—and it just makes him glower all the more.

It happens when he’s not even thinking about it. His body moves on automatic, moving into the jump just the same as he has all the other times, stabbing his toe into the ice and sending himself spinning through the air. Except that this time it’s _right_ , it clicks, and he lands without a wobble and skates away, grinning like he’s just won a gold medal. Four rotations. “I did it!” he calls, and Taekwoon starts smiling again.

“Good job,” he says, clapping Sanghyuk on the shoulders and pulling him into a quick hug. “I knew you could. Let’s have a break, hey? We’ve been out here for ages.”

Now that he’s standing still, he becomes patently aware of how his muscles are screaming at him, and winces. Hopefully he hasn’t overdone things. But he landed the quad and that’s really all that matters, well-worth the price of being sore tomorrow, and he’s about to turn and head off the ice when Hakyeon skates past again and he stops. “No, I’ll stay for a bit longer.”

Taekwoon eyes Hakyeon and then raises an eyebrow at Sanghyuk, warring with himself for a moment before shrugging as if to say _do what you like_. “Don’t overdo it,” he warns, and then he’s skating to the edge of the ice.

Sanghyuk starts skating in aimless circles, trying to keep his eyes trained forward and not on what Hakyeon and his coach, Hongbin, are doing. He fails, of course, because whenever Hakyeon’s around it’s like Sanghyuk’s eyes are magnets drawn to him. He just cannot look away, for better or for worse, and it’s starting to drive him slightly mad.

Hakyeon and Hongbin seem to be working on spins. Sanghyuk doesn’t really focus on those; he does them because they’re required elements, but he knows that’s not where he’s going to get the bulk of his points, so he never does anything beyond the bare minimum that his size allows him to get away with. But Hakyeon is freakishly flexible, and slimmer than Sanghyuk, and so as Sanghyuk watches he stretches his leg up behind him, arches his back, tips his head back, and grabs the blade of his skate.

It’s amazing to watch, and Sanghyuk comes to a stop as he watches Hakyeon spin gracefully. It’s a beautiful movement, called a Biellmann spin if he remembers correctly, and he’s never seen a man do it before; usually only women are flexible enough. He only realises that he’s staring when Hakyeon comes out of the spin and meets his eyes, face breaking into a smile, and Sanghyuk blushes down to his toes and skates away.

His mind is moving at a million miles an hour. Would his routine benefit from more artistic spins, instead of the basic sit spins he does now? If Hakyeon is setting the benchmark for what scores, then perhaps Sanghyuk should be trying to emulate his style instead of going for his typical powerhouse routine of jump after jump after jump. He’s biting his lip as he skates around, going from a single toe into a sit spin because he can, swearing under his breath when it’s still too slow. He has no trouble getting immense height and speed in his jumps, but his spins are another story. Maybe…

Copying exactly what he’s just seen Hakyeon do, he enters a spin and stretches his leg up behind him—or tries to. He’s not really flexible enough, and when he reaches for his blade it’s not with dexterity but rather with the desperation of someone dreadfully off balance. He grabs it and inadvertently yanks his leg closer but slides his hand down by accident and feels the metal bite into the soft flesh of his palm, and then he’s falling head-first, yelling the whole way down.

The fall doesn’t hurt, even though he fell in a really awkward position and was lucky not to injure himself. Or that’s what he thinks, until he gets to his feet and sees drops of red at his feet. Abstractly he realises his hand is stinging, and winces when he looks at it.

“Oh my god!” Hakyeon’s suddenly in front of him, and before Sanghyuk can move, he takes Sanghyuk’s bleeding hand in his own, inspecting the wound. “What have you done?”

His tone is gentle and not chastising, but still Sanghyuk bristles, going to pull his hand away. Hakyeon doesn’t let him go, though, holding onto his hand with surprising strength. “Um, I was just—I was trying to—”

“You need to bandage this,” Hakyeon says, as if he hasn’t spoken at all. “Where’s your coach?”

“In the cafeteria, probably.”

Hakyeon smiles at that. “I’ll help you, then. Come on.”

Before Sanghyuk can protest, Hakyeon starts pulling him towards the edge of the rink, and he’s helpless to do anything but follow, not least because he’s bleeding a rather alarming amount. Hakyeon drags him into the locker rooms and produces a first aid kit from his bag—of course he’s the type to always have one of those on him—and sits Sanghyuk down on a bench.

“You were trying a Biellmann, weren’t you?” he asks, dabbing at the blood that’s now running down Sanghyuk’s wrist.

Sanghyuk slumps down and looks pointedly at the wall. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Your thighs are too big for that.” When Sanghyuk looks at him, Hakyeon blinks, and then slides his eyes back down to Sanghyuk’s hand. “I just—I mean you’re too muscly. Not that that’s a bad thing.” He sighs almost wistfully as he reaches for an alcohol wipe. “I wish I had thighs like yours.”

The idea that Hakyeon’s been watching him, enough to notice his thighs, has his stomach doing a funny backflip that doesn’t feel like jealousy but must be, because what else could it be? Instead he just rolls his eyes and slumps down even further. “No, you don’t, because if you had thighs like me you wouldn’t be able to do what you do.”

“That’s the point, really,” Hakyeon replies, dabbing at the wound with the wipe. “Grass is greener on the other side, and all that.”

Maybe it’s because his hand is now stinging thanks to the alcohol, but any warmth Sanghyuk was feeling towards Hakyeon evaporates with those words. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s _so_ hard being a champion and winning every comp you set foot in. Grass is greener on the other side my ass.”

Hakyeon’s eyes are sparkling with amusement as he reaches for a butterfly bandage. “I remember what it was like at your age.”

“Don’t patronise me.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying. You’re still getting used to your body, and doing that while competing is hard.” He looks up at Sanghyuk and winks. “In a few seasons you’ll be my biggest competition.”

“And now?”

Hakyeon falls silent for a moment as he winds a cotton bandage around Sanghyuk’s palm; it’s almost like he’s considering. “I like watching you,” he murmurs, and he seems to realise what that sounds like at the same time Sanghyuk does because they both start to blush. _Shit_. “I mean, you have an interesting way about you on the ice. The opposite of me. You’re really… powerful.”

It’s a word often used to describe his skating style, but never has it sounded so genuine, sensual even, and Sanghyuk shudders and pulls his hand free of Hakyeon’s in one swift movement. “Not powerful enough,” he mutters under his breath, and sees Hakyeon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Thanks for this. Taekwoon will give me one hell of a lecture when he sees it, but at least the damage is controlled.” He gives his bandaged hand a little wave for good measure and gets up.

“No problem.” Hakyeon flashes him a wide smile as he scrunches the plastic from the bandages in his hands, and Sanghyuk’s stomach does that flip-flop thing again. “Oh, and, if you want to try an upright spin, start with a layback first. If you need help, just let me know.”

It’s an offer that comes out of nowhere and one that Sanghyuk finds he does not really know what to do with. They’re not quite rivals—Hakyeon’s slightly out of his reach, for now—as he pointed out, but that hasn’t stopped Sanghyuk from cultivating a rivalry all these years, even if it is dreadfully one-sided. Surely Hakyeon must be aware of the animosity and envy Sanghyuk has for him? Surely he mustn’t be _that_ altruistic?

Or maybe he doesn’t see Sanghyuk as a threat at all.

The thought makes him beyond angry, and before he can think about it he clenches his fists, digging his fingernails into his newly bandaged hand. The pain makes him focus, and he nods curtly at Hakyeon. “Will do. Thanks,” he lies, and turns away, marching out of the locker rooms with as much pride as he can muster.

//

They continue working on the quad lutz, and slowly, surely, he starts getting it down. He goes from falling every second time he attempts, to every fourth, and soon he’s barely falling at all and Taekwoon beams with pride every time he lands one. They start working on his routine for the next competition, tweaking things here and there, and he doesn’t tell Taekwoon that he’s been trying—and failing—to neaten up his layback in his own time. There’s no point.

He tries not to think about Hakyeon whenever he’s doing it, but that never really happens either.

It’s not like he’s hiding, not exactly. But for a while after Hakyeon bandaged his wound he’d trail his hand over the butterfly bandage and try and figure out why just the thought of what had happened set his stomach turning, and that had unsettled him so much he’d started trying to avoid Hakyeon. Not overtly. Not _really_. But he’d keep his head down and try not to make eye contact around him lest Hakyeon felt particularly chatty. It just seems easier, given that he’s still a mishmash of emotions that begin and end with envy.

So when he walks into the gym one day, towel already slung over his shoulder, and sees Hakyeon running on a treadmill right next to the only empty one, he turns and heads to the elliptical instead, biting his lip so hard he tastes blood. It’s not _fair_. He was perfectly happy hating Hakyeon, of reaching for his achievements, but now—this? If he was stupid he’d almost call it a crush, but he’s not. He refuses to be.

He sticks his headphones in and cranks up his workout music and gets to work, only startled out of his trance sometime later when someone taps him on the arm, making him jump. “Hey,” Hakyeon says, and then waves. “What’s up?”

“What?” Sanghyuk pants, ripping out an earphone. “What’s wrong?”

At this, Hakyeon smiles, but it’s one of amusement rather than the genuine smile he has on the ice. Sanghyuk could recognise _that_ smile from a mile off. “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say hey. I haven’t seen you around much.” He pauses, tugs on his earlobe. He looks awkward. Sanghyuk hesitates to call it cute. “Training hard?”

“When am I never not?” Sanghyuk replies, only it comes out grimmer than he intended. He’s always doing something related to ice skating, whether it is actually on the ice or at the gym or watching skating videos at home. “Er, you?” he asks, seeing Hakyeon’s startled expression.

He brightens at this. “Yeah! I’m looking forward to the next comp. It should be fun. This season’s been going really well.”

“Maybe for you,” Sanghyuk blurts bitterly before he can stop himself, and then winces at Hakyeon’s shock once again. “I—I mean—”

But Hakyeon smiles, a closed-off smile that means _stop talking_ , and so he does. “I know what you meant. I’ll leave you to it, then.” He pats Sanghyuk on the arm, but it’s cold, if such a touch could be cold. Sanghyuk’s clearly hurt his feelings. “See you around, Sanghyuk.”

Sanghyuk watches him go towards the locker rooms, having come to a standstill on the elliptical, warring with himself and twisting his fingers into knots. So what if he hurts Hakyeon’s feelings? He’s so above the rest of them, swanning around because he knows he’s hot shit, that being brought down to earth is probably exactly what he needs.

But—but then again—there’d been genuine hurt in those eyes.

He sighs and pulls his earphones out, getting off the elliptical before speeding towards the locker rooms, hoping that Hakyeon’s not in the showers or anything. As it turns out he’s not, he’s standing in front of a bench near the lockers without a shirt on, and he jumps when Sanghyuk appears in front of him, reaching for a towel to cover his chest.

 _That’s cute_ , Sanghyuk thinks, watching him blush.

Fuck.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and then takes a step back as Hakyeon drops the towel to pull his tshirt back over his body, because even the glimpse of all that skin has his mouth going dry. It’s not like he didn’t know Hakyeon had a torso—the skin-hugging competition outfits they all wear do not leave much to the imagination—but to actually see it is something else.

“What do you want?” Hakyeon asks, folding his arms over his chest.

He looks so uncomfortable that Sanghyuk blanches. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. “To apologise.”

Hakyeon just looks at him, face blank.

He sighs. “I’m being an asshole for no reason. I’m sorry.”

At this, Hakyeon softens, and sags down to sit on the bench. As if being pulled by invisible strings—or maybe that’s just Hakyeon’s influence—Sanghyuk does the same. “It’s fine, Sanghyuk. I’m just trying to help you. You’re probably the most promising skater on the ice at the moment.” He smiles, and while it’s not the beaming one that Sanghyuk knows, it’s a start. “To me, at least.”

That information is something he doesn’t know what to do with, so instead of looking at Hakyeon he just lets his gaze fall to his feet. “Um, thanks.” He pauses, about to make an excuse to leave, but then—words burst free of him, before he can stop them. “I wish I could skate like you.”

“Grass is greener,” Hakyeon tuts, but the warmth in the chide is evident and Sanghyuk basks in the glow of it. “Different isn’t bad, Sanghyuk.”

He doesn’t really believe that, but when Hakyeon’s saying it, he thinks maybe he could.

//

“Does he ever rest?” Sanghyuk breathes as he and Taekwoon step out onto the ice.

Another early start, another practice session, and Hakyeon is once again already here, skating wide circles around Hongbin at the other end of the rink. Taekwoon shoots him a glance and shrugs. “Why do you care about him so much? Just focus on your own skating.”

Sanghyuk does as he’s told, and not least because Taekwoon has laser focus and if he suspects that Sanghyuk’s feelings towards Hakyeon go beyond just rivalry and are now swerving deep into infatuation territory, as much as he is loathe to admit it, he will no doubt question Sanghyuk for hours and hours, and that’s something he desperately wants to avoid.

They work on jumps and footwork for hours, and by the time Sanghyuk’s panting and sweaty (Hakyeon is still gliding around like nothing on earth can faze him, of course) Taekwoon grants him a reprieve and glides off towards the cafeteria to get them both some coffee, leaving Sanghyuk skating aimlessly around, lost in his own head.

“You can really see he used to be Olympic level,” Hakyeon says with admiration, falling into step beside Sanghyuk and giving him a fright.

“Taekwoon? Yeah,” he replies, like this conversation is normal for them—it’s not—and trying to calm his racing heart. “I’m lucky to have him.”

Hakyeon doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and it gives Sanghyuk the chance to appreciate this, just the two of them on the ice with nothing between them, no expectations and no feelings. Just two skaters, doing what they do best. Heaven.

“How’s your layback?” Hakyeon asks.

His gaze is sharp, but Sanghyuk looks away and shrugs, deliberately nonchalantly. “Uh, fine?”

“Have you been working on it?”

“Maybe.”

“Show me.”

There’s no arguing with that tone, as much as Sanghyuk would like to, and so he obediently skates away, picturing the layback turn in his head. Skate smoothly, think strong. Dip into the illusion, come back up, tilt back, spin. Hands in towards his chest before bringing one up. The spin is slow, but it’s controlled and he’s not falling, and at this point, that’s all that he can ask for.

He comes out of the spin panting, and it takes him a few seconds to reorient himself and decipher the expression on Hakyeon’s face. “Was it that bad?”

“Not terrible,” Hakyeon replies, and then skates up to Sanghyuk. Before he can react Hakyeon reaches around and touches the small of his back. “I want to see more bend through here,” he continues, moving his hand up to Sanghyuk’s neck, “and here. And your free leg needs to be higher.”

Completely breathless not just from the dizzying spin but also from Hakyeon touching him suddenly, he realises he’s blushing and takes a step back. “It won’t _go_ higher.”

“Watch,” Hakyeon replies.

This Sanghyuk can do, and with relief he does just that, watching eagerly as Hakyeon circles around him, a small smile on his face. “This is what you were doing,” he says, and launches into a layback spin. It’s not terrible, but he’s not as open and flexible as he should be, and it just looks clumsy and slow. “And this is what you _should_ be doing.”

Sanghyuk’s seen eight year olds do layback spins hundreds if not thousands of times. He used to be quite good at them as a child, when he was still flexible; when puberty hit and brought with it his height and bulk, that was the end of laybacks. Every woman they skate with can do one. And yet he’s never seen one quite like this. Hakyeon’s layback is graceful while being incredibly fast; he spins directly on a point, his arms held aloft above his chest, head tilted back in the very image of poise and refinement. As if to show off, he straightens up, skates a stride out, switches legs, and enters the layback again, this time catching his skate and bringing it up first behind him, then to behind his head, and then extended above his head—a layback to a catchfoot layback to a haircutter to a Biellmann, without even breaking a sweat. Considering Sanghyuk’s seen women struggle to do that, to say he is awed would be the understatement of the century. It’s one thing to see it in competition, but when Hakyeon’s performing for him, it feels a thousand times more intimate.

“Wow,” he breathes, when Hakyeon comes to a stop in front of him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that.”

Hakyeon shrugs. “I’ll never be able to do as many jumps as you do.”

“I saw you land a quad lutz the other day,” Sanghyuk replies, and raises his eyebrow.

But Hakyeon raises his right back. “Just because I can land one doesn’t mean it’s any good. I’ll never have your height or your speed. I’m not nearly as good at combinations as you are.”

“Yes, you are,” Sanghyuk mumbles, looking at the ice so he doesn’t have to meet Hakyeon’s gaze.

“You’ve got a quad lutz triple toe double toe combination in your upcoming program, right? I’ll never be able to do that!” He shakes his head. “We’re getting off topic. Do the layback again.”

Grimly Sanghyuk realises he’s just replaced one coach with another, but he does as he’s told, skating in a circle and trying to pick up more speed before dropping into the layback. This time he tries to imagine what Hakyeon’d looked like and emulate it as best he can, as best his body allows; he feels more fluid, and he’s certainly faster, but as he comes out of it Hakyeon’s still frowning. “Was it that bad?”

“Not at all,” Hakyeon says, and shakes his frown away, chasing it with a smile. “It was much better.”

“I just don’t think I’ll ever have the back flexibility to be able to do this properly.”

At this, Hakyeon skates up to him, still smiling. “Wanna stop, then?”

They’re close. Absurdly close. Intimately close. Close enough for Hakyeon to wrap an arm around Sanghyuk’s waist, which he doesn’t do, but Sanghyuk almost wishes he would. “No,” he whispers, and then realises Hakyeon can barely hear him and tries again. “N-no.”

“Good,” Hakyeon whispers back, and he _knows_ he’s not imagining the way Hakyeon’s eyes fall to his lips, because suddenly his blood is roaring through his head and he can barely think. All he can see is Hakyeon Hakyeon Hakyeon, and how did such intense jealousy turn to such intense longing?

Sanghyuk hesitates. Hakyeon smirks.

The moment breaks, and Hakyeon turns and skates away. “If I’m helping you with this, maybe you can help me with my quad lutz.”

“Not a chance,” Sanghyuk laughs, falling into step beside Hakyeon and bumping elbows with him deliberately. “You don’t even need my help. You’re winning comps as you are.”

At this Hakyeon puts his hand on his chin as if he’s in thought. “True,” he replies, and before Sanghyuk can squawk with indignation, as he’s about to, skates away faster than Sanghyuk was expecting him to, laughing all the while.

Sanghyuk laughs too, unable to help himself, and follows.

//

“Are you sure you don’t want a lift?”

Sanghyuk shakes his head. Taekwoon’d come back from the cafeteria to find he and Hakyeon still working on laybacks, much to his very evident shock; they’d stopped, and Sanghyuk had resumed training, but he couldn’t really escape Taekwoon’s piercing gaze the whole time, his unspoken question: _why?_ As it is he’s so keyed up from skating with Hakyeon—he kept touching Sanghyuk, his back, his neck, his leg, to try and get him to put it in the right place, and it had been beautifully torturous—that he needs to skate by himself for a while and cool off.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, and waves Taekwoon off.

He goes, albeit reluctantly, and Sanghyuk is at last alone on the ice.

His new routine is starting to feel comfortable, and they’d made good progress today; now when he closes his eyes he can see the steps from beginning to end, can see himself performing them with ease, can see himself dropping into a layback spin, can see Hakyeon applauding for him—

He trips and falls on absolutely nothing. He wasn’t even attempting a jump, which makes it all the more absurd; one moment he is skating along and the next he is on his knees, blinking at the ice like it’s betrayed him. But somehow he doesn’t think it’s the ice that’s betrayed him. It’s his stupid head, racing five thousand miles ahead as per usual, because this _can’t_ be. He can’t have a massive crush on his (devilishly handsome, unerringly lovely) rival. He doesn’t want a crush. He wants to keep his head down and compete and knock Hakyeon off the podium, but it seems somewhere along the way his heart got mixed in, and now he’s screwed.

He makes his way off the ice, but not before doing another lap and throwing in a quad lutz for good measure. He doesn’t stick the landing, falls, bites his tongue and tastes blood, mixed with it disappointment. No surprise there. Taekwoon’s right, as he always is; when he gets in his head too much about things, he’s liable to make mistakes. Which is why he needs to sort this idiotic crush on Hakyeon. He can’t compete like this.

Unlacing his skates by the side of the rink and pulling them off, he reaches for his headphones in his jacket pocket and plugs them into his ipod, cranking the volume up. This late there’s no one else here, so he’s not worried about being overheard; he hums along loudly as he pads to the locker rooms in just his socks, clutching his boots by the laces, trying very hard to distract himself.

That plan backfires the moment he sees someone sitting on the bench on their phone, and he comes to a dead stop, because he knows those shoes, knows the crown of that head, and when they look up he wants to put his fist through a wall. “Hey,” Hakyeon must say, but Sanghyuk can’t hear over the music and instead reads his lips.

Instantly he stills. This is different, and his heart starts racing, betraying him. This is Hakyeon waiting for _him_ , when no one else is around, and he hates himself because his first thought is to stalk over there and slide into his lap. Instead of doing that he stomps over to his locker and pulls out a headphone, figuring that if he’s deliberately petulant he’ll drive Hakyeon away. “What are you doing here?”

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that after I helped you today!” Hakyeon replies with a grin, but upon seeing Sanghyuk’s expression refuse to change, he stills and becomes serious. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why?”

He regrets asking as soon as the word leaves his mouth, but if he regrets asking it looks like Hakyeon regrets ever having stepped in here at all, judging by how pale he’s gone. “Sanghyuk, I…”

Sanghyuk keeps his counsel, stills his tongue.

“I really like you, Sanghyuk—”

And there it is.

“And I want to know if you feel the same way.” When Sanghyuk doesn’t reply, Hakyeon stands up, taking a cautious step closer. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you never want to talk to me again that’s fine. I just…”

When Sanghyuk was younger, just after the first of his growth spurts had hit, he’d gotten into a terrible habit of rushing all his routines. He knew that speed equals points, but didn’t know how to temper it, and so had just charged full steam ahead through his program. He’d make countless mistakes because he wasn’t taking his time to flow through the movements properly, and he’d barely land any jumps; it had been a habit that took a long time to be trained out of him, but with Taekwoon’s help, he’d managed.

So why, exactly, he turns to grab Hakyeon by the collar and pull him in for a searing kiss, he doesn’t know—surely he has had his impulsiveness weaned out of him? Surely he’s not this rash? Surely he should do the mature thing, the _right_ thing, and turn and walk away?

But then Hakyeon kisses him back and all thoughts of doing that evaporate entirely.

Hakyeon’s hands settle on his hips and whirl him around with a _thump_ that turns into a _clang_ as he slams into the lockers, knocking the breath out of him. But Hakyeon doesn’t even give him a chance to relent before he swoops back in to kiss Sanghyuk again, and Sanghyuk certainly isn’t complaining; there’s heat between them, the likes of which he’s never felt before, and he’s instantly an addict.

“I’m all for continuing this makeout session,” he mumbles when they break apart, “but not right here. Do you want to come back to mine?”

“Is that alright?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

Hakyeon regards him with glittering eyes before pulling away to grab his gym bag, and this time the smile that he gives Sanghyuk is the full effect—he’s blinded by it. “Then let’s go.”

//

They barely even make it to the bed.

Sanghyuk’s not sure why. He didn’t even realise there was that much passion lurking under the surface (and not just on his end, either, because he’s seen Hakyeon skating and he’s seen Hakyeon on the winner’s podium and he’s never, ever seen him look this intense and serious), but maybe he should have had an idea; his envy runs deep. Somewhere along the way that envy turned to admiration and is now an all-consuming fervour that threatens to sweep them away entirely. They are both wrecked by it.

“I want you,” Hakyeon breathes, pushing into Sanghyuk and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. “Touch me, please—”

Sanghyuk can’t, won’t refuse, and he pushes up Hakyeon’s shirt and does so eagerly, not caring they’re still in the hallway outside his bedroom, haven’t even gotten that far. Whereas Hakyeon’d seemed rather shy about his body before, now, under the dim lights, he practically purrs when Sanghyuk kisses a nonsensical pattern on his stomach, thumbs dimpling the flesh of his slender waist. There’s muscle there, he’s strong, and it’s reassuring.

They trip over themselves and finally get to Sanghyuk’s bedroom, laughing all the way; Hakyeon’s laughter dies in his throat when Sanghyuk lifts his shirt over his head, his eyes turning sharp and hungry. They kiss and strip each other, hurried, frenzied and furious, so perfect Sanghyuk wonders how it took him so long to realise.

“Do you have stuff?” Hakyeon whispers as he crawls onto Sanghyuk’s lap, the both of them buck-naked. “Like, condoms and lube and stuff?”

Sanghyuk snorts and noses Hakyeon’s arm before biting him there, enjoying the way he arches and moans. “Of course. I have groupies. I need to be prepared.”

“No you don’t,” Hakyeon slurs, but he’s smiling—if a slightly loopy smile. “Where are they?”

“The groupies? Dunno,” Sanghyuk replies, but obediently reaches for a condom and a bottle of lube from his drawer, or attempts to; he has to grip onto the wood for a few seconds when Hakyeon reaches down between them and wraps his hand around Sanghyuk’s cock with a wicked glint in his eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing. “Evil,” he mumbles, and presses the lube into Hakyeon’s outstretched hand. “You’re evil.”

Now that both hands are free, he trails one down the line of Hakyeon’s hip to wrap around his cock, returning the favour. The noise that Hakyeon makes, a throaty gasp, has his heart skipping a beat, and oh Sanghyuk had thought he couldn’t look more beautiful than when he’s on the ice, but he has never been more wrong in his life. “Yeah,” Hakyeon murmurs, and uncaps the lube, reaching for Sanghyuk’s other hand to drizzle some on his fingers. “I am. And you love it. Finger me.”

The command, given so blatantly and without a hint of embarrassment, has Sanghyuk tingling all the way down to his toes. He can’t disobey and nor would he want to, so he reaches around to press a finger up against Hakyeon’s entrance, waiting for his eyelids to flutter shut before sliding it slowly in. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“I know,” Hakyeon murmurs, and starts stroking Sanghyuk’s cock again, and the confidence with which those words are delivered has him on the verge of tears.

They don’t speak much, after that. Hakyeon presses Sanghyuk down onto the bed so he’s on a back and waits for him to roll a condom on before sinking himself down onto Sanghyuk’s cock, splaying both hands on Sanghyuk’s chest. They barely move for a few moments, lost in the feeling of each other, before Hakyeon starts fucking himself and Sanghyuk lets his eyes close and his mind empty. But even that doesn’t last, because he’s not close, he wants to be _closer_ , so he sits up and grabs Hakyeon’s waist; this way they’re pressed up against each other and the slide of their skin is almost as bad as how hot and wet and tight Hakyeon is around Sanghyuk, filthily so, and so they fuck themselves into exhaustion and orgasm. Hakyeon comes first and Sanghyuk follows a few seconds later, the last thing imprinted on his eyelids the veins standing out in Hakyeon’s neck as he arches back.

Afterwards Hakyeon starts to slide out of bed, and Sanghyuk catches his wrist. “Are you leaving?” he whispers, and it comes out far more vulnerable than he intended.

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

Hakyeon beams and bends down to press a kiss to Sanghyuk’s damp forehead. “Then no. I’ll stay.”

It’s still early so they get dressed—Sanghyuk in his pyjamas and Hakyeon in one of Sanghyuk’s tshirts and tracksuit pants—and make tea before cuddling on the sofa together, bickering over what to watch before finally settling on a movie. It’s revoltingly domestic, and actually kind of strange how Hakyeon slots easily into Sanghyuk’s life, almost too easily. But it’s sweet, and Hakyeon looks so beautiful when he falls asleep in Sanghyuk’s arms that he decides not to question it too much.

He stirs when Sanghyuk prods him, and they head back to the bed together and curl up in the middle of it, Hakyeon sliding both arms around Sanghyuk’s waist to pull him closer. “Did you set an alarm?” he mumbles. “Need to get to the rink tomorrow for practice…”

Sanghyuk snorts and kisses Hakyeon on the shoulder, feeling him shiver. “I have an alarm every morning. Don’t worry, we’ll be there on time.” He sighs. “Taekwoon’s gonna kill me.”

“You mean this wasn’t an elaborate strategy to throw me off my game?”

“I’ve been found out.” Sanghyuk scrunches his eyes shut as Hakyeon blows air in his face playfully. “It would have worked, too, if you hadn’t captured my heart along the way.”

“Shut up,” Hakyeon says, but Sanghyuk can hear the smile in his voice.

//

Normally when Hakyeon competes, Sanghyuk makes himself scarce, tying and retying his laces for the entire duration of his program; he just can’t stand to watch, to be torn apart with jealousy and have to smile prettily with the rest of them.

This time is different. This time he claps Hakyeon on the back before he goes into the ring, leaving his hand there for longer than strictly necessary, just long enough to make Hakyeon’s eyes start sparkling. “Good luck,” he whispers, not that Hakyeon will need it.

And he doesn’t. His routine is beautiful, flawless, and when he comes off the ice he’s radiant and sweaty and overjoyed. It used to turn Sanghyuk’s stomach, but this time he’s just basking in the afterglow that’s not even his own, laughing when Hakyeon hugs him in front of everyone. It’s a routine he won’t be able to touch, but maybe that’s okay, for now.

Then it’s his turn.

Eyes closed, fists clenched, bouncing on the springy rinkside flooring. Taekwoon’s got both hands on his shoulders, whispering, but as per usual Sanghyuk can’t hear him. All he can see is his routine, opening with his quad lutz. Last time he had been unsure, but this time, for once, he’s full of confidence.

“Good luck.” That’s Hakyeon by his side, taking his hand and squeezing it for a second before slipping away; he knows that Sanghyuk doesn’t like to be bothered before he competes, but the gesture is still appreciated, more than he’ll ever know.

He steps out onto the ice and rolls his shoulders, taking his place in front of the judges before arranging himself into his starting position and closing his eyes. He’s still running through his routine, step after step after step, quad lutz, death drop into a sit spin, quad lutz combo—he knows it all, he can do it all, he knows he can.

The music starts, and Sanghyuk breathes in.

//

Sanghyuk skates harder than he’s ever skated in his life, and from the sidelines, Hakyeon beams with pride.

//

“Betcha didn’t think I’d be here so soon, huh?”

Hakyeon just rolls his eyes, but he snakes a hand around Sanghyuk’s shoulders—the arm that isn’t currently holding a bouquet—to pull him close for a hug anyway. Given that Sanghyuk’s standing on the third place podium and Hakyeon’s on the first, his head ends up squished into Hakyeon’s hip, but it’s not like he minds; he’s too overjoyed that he’s even here. He’s been on podiums before, but not in a while; it’s a feeling he’s missed. The fact that it’s third place doesn’t matter in the slightest.

“You absorbed this talent from me,” Hakyeon murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “I’m the only reason you’re here.”

Sanghyuk shoves him, nearly hard enough for him to go toppling into the second-place skater, who shoots them a glare; the crowd laughs, and a flash goes off in front of them, and abstractly Sanghyuk realises he needs a copy of that photo. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll knock you off that podium some day.”

“I look forward to it,” Hakyeon replies, and as Sanghyuk smiles up at him, he can believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god okay so tiana and I were trying to come up with a snappy clever title for this, right? and we were throwing all these stupid ice skating puns back and forth and then I opened up spotify to change songs and started yelling... i've recently got into (another) a german metal band called eisbrecher and i was listening to them all night... eisbrecher means icebreaker... german metal came thru for me once again...
> 
> anyway yes this was inspired by hakyeon's instagram post, but i'll be honest, i had an urge to write a chasang figure skating au since the winter olympics but didn't do anything about it until he posted that insta LMFAO
> 
> hope you enjoyed! pls comment if you did!! ♡


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